wash n wear

as i mentioned in my post about lady danburry's awesomeness, at this time last weekend we were in vegas.  this was my view by the pool, where i loafed around in a ten dollar ross-dress-for-less jersey shift.  it was a spur of the moment trip, and i didn't pack well AT ALL.  mainly because we weren't heading there as high rollers, we were more... freeloaders... warmly welcomed freeloaders... but it put me in a different packing mindset.  i wasn't ready for the fabulosity of the joint.  

but in retrospect, neither were most of the guests there.  the clientele did not match the setting, almost purposefully.  no one was dressed during daylight hours.  in fact, i couldn't take a picture in the extravagant hotel atmosphere because it was cluttered with so much meh.  i'm not judging (much) as i was most definitely part of the meh.  at this hour last sunday, i was rolling out of bed in my gap "pool pants" (glorified pajama bottoms) and slouchy t shirt.  Musketeer The Third was ravenous.  would it take long for us to motivate?  two minutes later, the three of us were out the door and looking for breakfast.  to our horror, we found it.  my BBBLT beat the hell out of me.  (the triple Bs do stand for 300% more bacon.  i admitted defeat.)

heinously fed and back at the hotel, i wondered what i would wear by the pool.  opting for the second time that morning to wait on showering, i threw on a little more blush and staggered over to ross.  at about minute 49 of looking through the shoe aisles, it hit me: i'm standing in the middle of a public store, unwashed, in something i slept/waded around in bacon in for over FOURTEEN HOURS.   did i hurry back to the room in shame?  no.  i clocked it, spent another twenty minutes hitting up the junior miss dress racks, even tried things on in the fitting room, and returned triumphant to le hotel with my score.  AT THIS POINT I SHOULD HAVE SHOWERED.  i did not. bathing myself in sunscreen and a newly minted sundress, i then lounged by the pool.  for six more hours.  it didn't matter.  i fit right in.  

regaining my sense of smell, i did finally wash my disgusting ass before we left for dinner.  hotel evening wear also had a non dress code.  our trio observed the gaggles of women in micro mini dresses.  EVERYWHERE.  i don't mind them,  our fellow musketeer said,  in fact i like them, it's just that they keep tugging on them.  why do women want to wear something like that?  isn't it irritating?  

yes, i said, IT IS, i just don't get it, and gazed down upon them from my lofty and finally washed tower.  i felt quite holier-than-thou about the fact that i was in a short, but draped, skirt.  then a technicolor rose lace printed stretch mini came teetering from around the corner, and it all came back to me in a rush:  I OWNED THAT EXACT DRESS.  i wore it to vegas the first time ruggy & i visited.  and pulled down on the hemline every five steps, and told ruggy i felt like he'd just picked me up on the boulevard.  admitting defeat for the second time that day, i amended my answer to his question: you just go through it.  there's a point in your life where you absolutely have to wear the skintight micro mini dress. 

of course it's cool if that point in your life happens to turn into a lifelong thing.  so long as you shower daily.

what is it about vegas that makes you want to behave abnormally?  this is certainly the low end of the spectrum, ooooh, i didn't shower and i walked outside in my pjs!  i'm so baaaaaaaaad!  

you know what i want?  an old school casino hotel with dress codes.  evening wear is black tie, day wear is linen, poolside wear would be sweeping cinched caftans with long slits revealing pinup bathing suits.  for the gents, speedos are taboo.  an elegant kind of joint.  

would you go?